sounds

i am the microcosm of sond and silence.i am the beat of the goatskin.the ping ting of the kalimba.the hummmm beeeeee of the tribe of motherland roots.
incense swings in the censers illuminated by colored lights of rose windows and the robes ahhhhhh ah ahhh ahh ba.bell bell pot bell pot bell.i am the baroque and gothic echoes of wood and rosined metal gut strings.
i am the dreamtime hop of the kangas and hollowed out suction whirl of the trunk painted in the spots of the first people.i am the splash of the cold spring puddles.i am the sheep stomach pipes of the heavenly blue painted warriors
i am the squeak of the gentle whales and  the whisk of the silently ebbing reefs.i am the sirens and"F**k You's" and the taxi cabs honking and the huh bub of new york.i am the raw power of the stooges and dead kennedys and the beat power of nameless MCs combined.
i am the brazilian sounds of easter afternoon apartments,still in church clothes.i am the ahhh ah a a ahh of pre orgasm.i am the useless shuffling of classroom papers
i am the the lonely,walking in the middle of the road moonshine like banjo.i am the wind on the beach.i am the sound of the ashram sanctuary.
i am the the,i am the am.i am the muzzien.i am the monk,the priest,the evangelist,the guru,the teenagers,the punk shows,the silence after the laughter and the sounds.
Sounds
(end pt.1)